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(no subject)

Who: Charles Xavier + You
Broadcast: Video
Action: SS Heron
When: Right now!

[ The video starts with Charles sitting on his wheelchair, his hands neatly folded on his lap. He rubs faint circles on his legs for a few seconds, the only real sign of tension. ]

Hello. My names is Charles Xavier. I am a geneticist graduated from Oxford. I -- [ ran ] -- run a school in Westchester for the Gifted. Mutants. People with abilities. My focus is the training and control of abilities we do not always fully understand, abilities that are gifts but can often run amok.

[ He pauses, catching his second wind before continuing on, poised. ]

I am also a telepath with a full set of abilities in aiding the mind and extremely . . . proficient. I do not read minds without permission, because honestly, I really don't care.

[ Charles pauses again, wondering if he should say more and dismisses it. People can ask him if they need details - which they will. ]

If anyone would like to make use of my abilities and skills, they are certainly most welcome to. Confidentiality, of course, is key and you need not make anything public if you do not wish to. If you have any questions for me, the floor is open for you.

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[ The way that she brightens shows how much that means to her, and she nods her head. ]

Erik invited me to your ship, actually. I've been meaning to visit.

[ Erik. Not Blade. ]

Did he? Good man.

[ The use of his name doesn't go unnoticed. ] I'm certainly free now, if you're interested.

I made him dance with me, so it might have been more out of friendly obligation.

[ Which is her joking again because, haha, as if Erik would do anything out of obligation. ]

I can be there in ten minutes?

[ He snorts lightly there. ]

Certainly. Take your time.

[ There's a quick wave before she hangs up, and then she's making her way over. It's her first time to the Heron and while she's not new to the shuttles it is still a new ship - and she steps out, taking it all in. Each ship is different and she can't help the urge to explore, to let herself know all the secrets, leftover from her days in school. Sending Charles a quick message to let him know she's there, she begins to look around the cargo hold without hesitation. ]

[ He waits at the entrance at the Shuttle Bay. Which seems like an unfair thing for him to do, but it ends up wasting time and having people watch him struggle with the railings and chair. And Charles knew Hermione wouldn't mind.

Tentatively, he reaches out with his mind. Hello. ]

[ As soon as Charles' telepathy touches her mind there's a rush of giddy happiness that she can't fight back - and she's sure he can feel it too. It's so familiar to her, so welcome that she can't handle the burst of emotion, not when she knows that she should really be focussing on replying. Stepping out the way so she's not in anyone's path, Hermione closes her eyes and focusses on that connection, on the shared whisper of something between the two of them.

Charles. It's gentle, and filled with almost too much - because he was still family to her, still like a brother, still a best friend. All she can do is try and push it down. I'm not shouting, am I? ]

[ Not at all, he replies. He feels oddly self-conscious. I'm at the entrance. Would you like to come to the kitchen? It's well stocked. ]

[ I remember. Erik made me tea. Which was when she came here upset because Charles wasn't her Charles, but she does try not to let that memory float across. I'm on my way! And she is, grabbing her bag and adjusting the things around her neck before she heads up, following the only just familiar route. ]

[ There's a brief wave of nostalgia and warmth at that. Erik isn't homely, but he's learned the art of it. They both had. Charles simply can't do it as well anymore.

He rubs his hands lightly, an old habit. He's rather good at that. You should see him bake. ]

[ Hermione had been touched, mostly because of the fact that she was usually the one offering comfort. She hadn't expected Erik to invite her over and take care of her - she had expected that they would find out who's Charles it was and then go their separate ways. He had calmed her down and it's something she is more than just a little thankful for.

I think I'd pay to see that. Stepping through, she pushes open the kitchen door, pushing hair out of her face and focussing on Charles in her mind. I think he imagines that you and I sit around and do nothing but drink tea, given where we're from. ]

[ A pinprick of amusement, technically, I am from America. His schooling left him with a stronger accent than most and he had enjoyed the culture there. Fond memories, he muses to himself, not that he can remember much of it. All of them seem to have faded after Erik and . . . other events. ]

[ The door shuts behind her and she shakes her head, fighting her smile. I remember a time when you and I sat on a beach lamenting about the utter lack of fish and chips. You may not have been born there, Charles, but I think you picked up on it. ]

[ It feels like lifetimes ago, doing those sorts of things. Erik and Charles had attempted them, tried to grasp whatever normalcy they could. Little dates and moments stretched between them as they tried to make it work - tried not to let their own legacies eat away at the simple feelings.

Charles pulls up the tea and mugs. Padme had started adjusting the ship a little, making it easier. They have several kinds of tea here, for which I'm grateful. ]

[ It's been years for me. Years of fighting, and just the idea of fish and chips sounds ridiculous. It's too normal. Living in the Drabwurld meant that meals were simpler and for Hermione, who had been cursed to be unable to eat... They had been hard. Being here hasn't done much for the strength of her stomach and eating, as a rule, is still a sore subject for her.

I'm going to have to come here more often. ]

[ We have to fight for our normal, he says quietly. Food was never difficult in Kyriakos, but it was hard for other reasons. Charity of strangers and so forth, the same people who let the woman who killed his team walk free as they were murdered again and again and again --

He moves away from it as he sets the kettle. I think we can all appreciate what we have. And you should. I'm sure Erik would like that as well. ]

[ They're in the kitchen together now, but Hermione doesn't stop her careful conversation with Charles - she doesn't see the need to. He says they have to fight for normal and this is normal for her; sitting with him, talking to him without speaking anything aloud. It highlights her loneliness, the way that her heart feels like it's getting colder and how, sometimes, she just wants to cry, but she does her best to shove those away for now. She can break alone - in front of people she needs to be strong.

We have to fight for lots of things, but at least normal is what we make it. Still, she turns to give him a soft look, moving forward to help because that's who she is, not because she thinks he needs it. Erik's going to get tired of me if I keep coming over and drinking all his tea. ]

[ He feels the strings of a faint melancholy and he turns to look at her, assessing.

I doubt any of us would get tired of you. ]

[ She pauses in her movements, not really able to turn her head to look at Charles before she does her best to force a smile, glancing over with a raised eyebrow.

You haven't seen me when I'm studying something new.

It's easier to deflect then face the truth. ]

[ Then perhaps you'd show me. Though it seems I'll have my hands full right now.

The response he got from his announcement was . . . heartening. Old wounds, from people he had trusted never fully left. ]

[ She laughs aloud, lifting a hand to cover her mouth.

That's what you get for being a kind and generous telepath, Charles. You're going to have dozens of friends and I'll have to sneak in to spend time with you. ]

[ Charles snorts delicately and there's a faint thread of cynicism, but nothing extreme. Dozens of friends sounds like someone else entirely.

I highly doubt that's going to happen. It just seems like a lot of people here need the help. ]

[ Hermione just battles it back with her own optimism, her belief in Charles and her pride, the kind that swallows her up and makes everything else feel forgettable in comparison.

I'm glad they have someone to help them. And then, stepping closer, she softens. And you have people to help you, when you're done listening to their hurts. ]

[ He waves it off, my hurts are fairly inconsequential at this stage. And mostly conquered.

But he realized that was callous and he subsides, I have people. I'm . . . grateful for that. ]

[ That doesn't mean they're not there.

Hermione isn't offended, not in the least. She knows that overcoming pain was a step to getting stronger, and she had had to face it herself - so much death, and suffering, and pain, the kind that was inescapable in a world built on war and heartache. If she hadn't learned to grow from it she would have broken by now and she's still not entire sure that she hasn't forced herself together with fine, fragile stitches.

Reaching out, she touches his hand. People that aren't going anywhere. ]